DEAR JACK
by Donna McIntosh
Summary: Ennis writes Jack a letter.


Title: DEAR JACK

Author: Brokeback Mountain

Rating: R

Warning: Tissue alert

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Annie Proulx. I make no money off of them. I

Just enjoy playing with them from time to time.

Summary: Ennis writes Jack a letter.

DEAR JACK

I've been thinkin about you a lot lately; in fact, can't hardly get you off my mind at all. I'm still workin over at the Cole Ranch; foreman's easy to work for and don't ask no more of a man than he's willin to do himself. He's got a wife and four kids; each one cuter than the next and every one smart as a whip. Oldest one's 16 and got himself and his buddy in trouble last week up at Clearwater Lake where you and me went that time back in '67.

The Methodist Church was having it's end of the school year picnic up there and him and his buddy took a jump off that cliff naked as jay birds; landing right there where everybody could see them. Pastor's mad, folks in town is mad, all the girls hate him now, and his parents got him on restriction, whatever the hell that means.

Couldn't help but laugh when Cole told me about it. I remembered well, you and me taking that jump. We had the luxury of privacy though; good thing we did, cause that water sure was cold and we sure did warm each other up, didn't we?

I think about you mostly at night, just before I go to sleep. I lay there in bed and remember the things we used to do. Think a lot about Brokeback Mountain and remember that the best, I guess. Probably 'cause that's when my life changed the most. I went from thinkin 'bout things; to doin 'em. Big step there. Never did wanna do those things with nobody else; not before you or after you. Guess those things were just "Jack Twist" things for me. Couldn't never even consider bein with no other man.

Some fellas at the bar last night was talkin 'bout elk huntin and it made me think of that elk I shot up on Brokeback. I hated doin it cause it was out of season and all but you was dyin for somethin more than beans to eat so I did it. Hell, Jack, I wouldn't have brought the moon down out of the sky for you, if you wanted it. That old elk sure was good eatin, wasn't it?

Saw Alma in town the other day, she's her same old snarly self. Miss sourpuss, I call her. Not to her face, a course, but in my mind. She had to brag on her two boys and her husband and look at me with those dirty eyes of hers. It's a mystery to me how a woman could have everything she says she always wanted and still be so sour. Was really glad to see the last of her!

Drove by the old Siesta Motel yesterday. They redid the whole place; got it all fixed up nice. I was sorely tempted to get out and go see if room 14 was available. It would have been nice to go see it again. 'Course, don't remember all that much about the room itself; just you and me clingin to each other all night, whisperin and laughin and makin that old bed squeak till I thought it was gonna break!

I went fishin last month over at that place we liked near Lander. Caught some nice trout and cooked them over the campfire. Sure tasted good; but not nearly as good as the ones we caught and cooked. That was one of the few times we actually fished on one of our trips. Ain't no fun fishin or cookin over a campfire or sleepin in a tent without you. Thought 'bout you every minute I was there. It was almost like you was there with me.

Sometimes in the quiet of the night, I can almost hear you breathin next to me. Felt it first time there in Lander; and other times here in my trailer. When it's late at night and there isn't a sound anywhere, I can almost feel you laying there next to me, and hear you breathin. The other morning I woke up with the blanket against the side of my face, it's kinda ragged at the edge and it felt like your moustache rubbin against me. Didn't want to get up; didn't want to move. Dang old alarm clock just kept ringin so I had to; but it sure did leave the morning full of nice memories of wakin up next to you.

First few months after you left I was really all messed up; couldn't think straight at all. I

was mad, and sad and scared and hurt and all those feelins at once; kinda numb I guess.

Took me a while to sort things out. Don't know if I ever told you or not, but you were the first real friend I ever had. The only one I was ever close to. In fact, the only person in my life I could ever relax with; be myself with.

Can't tell you how much a part of my life you were; how much I looked forward to seein you each time or how much I missed you when we were apart. I should have made more of an effort to do that; instead of just tryin to show it. Words are important too, Jack, and it is one of my deepest regrets that I didn't say more of the things that I felt instead of just takin for granted that you knew them.

That would have been a great conversation now, wouldn't it? We woulda been blubberin all over each other. We shoulda done it though, Jack. We shoulda said all those words we had locked up inside us. Don't see how it could have made me love you any more than I already did. It just pains me though, that I never said the words. Never said them to nobody else neither 'cept my kids a'course, but that's different. I can say them now though. I say them in the dark, at night sometimes when I can't sleep; and I say them in the shower and I say them when I'm on the road drivin and in the grocery story pickin up groceries. I love you, Jack. I can say it now and I do; over and over again, every day.

The other day in the grocery store I heard some woman calling out, "Jackie, Jackie" to some little boy and it made me wonder if that's what your Momma called you? I'll bet she did. Bet you were a good little boy too, weren't you? I know you talked some about your Momma and I know you loved her. It's a shame you and your Daddy never got on.

I know how that is. I never got on with my Daddy neither but Momma was a sweetheart.

Bet she did call you Jackie. Nobody never did call me nothing but Ennis or Del Mar 'cept ole KE. He always called me shithead or dickhead; mean stuff like that. Ain't seen him in more than 20 years now and he lives only a few hours drive away. Ain't worth the drive.

Whenever I'm drivin, I think 'bout all that drivin you used to do to come up and see me. 'Course you always had nice fine trucks to do your drivin in, but 14 hours straight drivin is a whole hell of a lot of drivin. Now I like drivin, but not that much.

I often think 'bout the choices I made and the limits I put on our bein together and I have lots of regrets. Wish I hadn't been such a coward back then. I was just so scared, Jack, afraid someone would find out and we'd be beaten to death and our families would be shamed.

Lookin back now, I wish we had done it; gotten that little place you always wanted. We might have made a go of it; might not; but at least we would have been together more. That's my one big regret in life, Jack that we didn't get to spend more time together because of my fears.

I hated rememberin at first. Made me realize all that I had let slip away but now I enjoy it. I spend lots of time doin it. At first, I near drank myself to death but it didn't help. Tried workin myself to death. Got a part time job in town workin evenins and weekends at the Sears Warehouse. That didn't help neither but did get to save up some money. Was able to fix up my little trailer and its real nice and homey now; got me some new boots and a few clothes. Got a discount for whatever I bought there. Did that for a couple a years then got tired of it. Didn't do no good anyhow. Still thought 'bout you constantly and had so many regrets.

Just workin at the ranch now and things are better. It's a pleasure thinkin 'bout you now; got used to the pain, I guess.

You know, to hear people talk, you'd think their first time was the greatest thing ever but I think our second time was better. I think of that night a lot. I was so scared and you were so sweet to me the way you kept tellin me "It's all right, it's all right." I can close my eyes right now and hear you sayin those words to me; remember what it was like the first time you kissed me. Only one I ever kissed before was Alma and it was good and all but hell fire, Jack, it wasn't nothin like kissin you; bein kissed by you. You started a fire inside me that still burns bright whenever I think 'bout you. Ain't never been nothin like it before and won't ever be again. A fella only gets that kinda fire once in his lifetime and you were it for me.

I think the thing that I remember most about you is your smile; the way it lit up the whole place when you did it. And those eyes of yours; I ain't never seen such eyes before. Never did see that shade of blue on nothin but the sky. Maybe that's why I liked them so much; they reminded me of the sky. The wide open blue Wyoming sky; saw that in your eyes; that and more. I liked the way you looked at me; made me feel special; like I was somebody important.

That's the way you always made me feel, Jack; like I was somebody that mattered. Each time we met up, there would be that look there in your eyes and I knew; that was where I needed to be. Each time we said good-bye it tore a little piece of my heart out. Don't think you'd ever believe it but I wanted the same thing you did; us together permanently. I used to day dream 'bout it. Drivin home from work, I'd think what it would be like if you were there in my trailer waitin for me. We'd fix dinner then curl up and sleep together. You were right; it would have been a sweet life.

Now all I have is memories of you and me together. Such good memories, Jack. Memories enough for a lifetime. You and me rollin in the grass up on Brokeback; or swimmin naked in the lake or playin in the snow. Remember the snowmen we built? With all the "equipment"? That was fun. I KNOW I saw your snowman eyeing my snowman!

Sometimes I think it's all gone now and the pain starts then I remind myself that it ain't all gone as long as I'm alive to remember it. And I do remember it, Jack. I remember it every day and every night. You and me together. Sometimes the rememberin brings you so close I can almost smell you; seems like I could reach out and touch you; or just open my eyes and you'll be there smilin that smile of yours, reachin out for me. Those are the good memories.

I remember some bad times too. Like that fight we had. It was the only time we ever did have a fight. We said some terrible things to each other but I didn't mean them and I know you didn't neither. They just come out with all the frustration. I don't think on that too much. Don't want to remember it. Sides, I'd rather think 'bout the night before when you told me how much you missed me. I wanted to say "me too" but couldn't get the words out. I never was very good with words. I can say them now, or at least, write them now; now that it don't matter.

Don't even know why I'm writin this letter; won't be able to mail it. Just found this box of writin paper a few weeks ago in the attic. Had some old letters in it and a bunch of unused paper. I threw the old letters away and for some reason kept this paper. It's blue Jack. Not the same blue as your eyes but pretty close. It reminded me of you, I guess, is why I kept it. Thought maybe I might just write to you now and then. It'd be almost like takin to you.

I got our shirts, Bud. I went up to Lightnin Flat to see your folks and your Momma said I could have them. Got them right here on my closet door so's I can look at them every day. Can't tell you what it means to me that you kept them all those years. I'll be lookin after them now and when the time comes, I plan on being buried in them; both of them. I got it all written out in a letter to Junior. She's a good daughter and she'll do it.

Guess I'll close for tonight. The wind is getting up again and the door is bangin. I'll twist the dead-bolt and get myself to bed now. I love you, Jack. Come see me in my dreams of you're a mind to.

Your friend,

Ennis Del Mar

THE END


End file.
